Take Me Back To The Start
by fitzsimmons
Summary: It has been exactly a year and six days since Agent Jemma Simmons was declared missing, presumed dead on a mission in Morocco, when she suddenly turns up at SHIELD's headquarters with no memory of the past year. She's keen to get back to work, but the team are worried about her. What has she been doing for the last twelve months, and more importantly, why can't she remember it?
1. Chapter One

It had all started out so simple. There had been so many recent attempts to replicate the super serum used on Captain America that there was a now a separate protocol for any missions relating to it; get in there, take the serum, attempt to destroy any files relating to its development if they could before getting out of there as quick as possible.

Fitzsimmons and Skye would go in accompanied by Ward and May, who would fight off anyone stopping them whilst the two scientists located the serum and Skye got the files. It was a mission that all of them – including Skye – had experience with and could usually execute with minimal guidance from Coulson. So what had gone so horrifically wrong this time?

Fitz was crouched down with his chin tucked up against his knees, his back flush against the tree as he tried to make himself as small as possible. He was clutching the briefcase that contained this mission's serum like a shield against himself, silently thanking whoever designed it for making it bulletproof as he heard bullets ricochet off the other side of it.

Everything had happened so fast. One minute he was watching Jemma carefully package the test tubes into the metal case, labelling each one neatly and the next he was diving for cover in the dense jungle as all hell broke loose around him.

Panting heavily, he looked around the clearing for Simmons. He could've sworn she'd taken cover right next to him, behind a tree with a particularly wide trunk but when he looked around, she was nowhere to be seen.

It was like she'd disappeared. "Simmons!" he yelled as he stood up quickly and brought the briefcase away from his face, momentarily forgetting where he was.

"Fitz, what are you doing?!" a voice cried from across the way, a male voice. Fitz looked up to see Ward staring at him incredulously, his arms stuck out either side, guns clamped in his hands. Bullets still endlessly flew out of them despite the fact he wasn't looking at his targets. "Get down!" he shouted at the scientist, looking crazed.

Obediently, Fitz dropped to the floor just as a bullet flew into the tree behind him, hitting it where he'd just been standing and sending splinters of bark flying everywhere.

Crawling around on his knees in the dirt, he began yelling. "Simmons!" He fumbled with the case - which he'd dropped upon impact with the ground - and hugged it against his chest. "Jemma!" Gunshots echoed around the clearing accompanied by shouts in both English and French. Suddenly, the screeching of tyres filled the air and Fitz leapt back in fright.

He peeked over the top of the metallic briefcase to see one of the grey S.H.I.E.L.D. vehicles pull up in front of him, Coulson in the driver's seat. "Get in," he demanded. Fitz didn't need to be told again as he scrambled up onto his feet and clambered into the back of the car, putting the briefcase safely on his lap.

It was only once he was safely inside the car that he remembered what he'd left out there. "Jemma!" he cried loudly out in instinct as Ward jumped into the backseat, closely followed by Skye. "Where's Simmons?" Coulson asked from the front.

"She's… she's…" He pressed his face up against the glass window, madly scanning the jungle for her small frame. The door handle caught his attention and his fist quickly closed around it, trying to yank it open. But it was locked. "We have to get out and find her…" he mumbled.

"Fitz, we have to go," Coulson replied, putting his foot on the gas as soon as May had joined him in the front.

"But she's still out there!"

"We'll come back for her, I promise," he said, pulling out of the clearing alarmingly fast, sending Fitz flying back into his seat with a painful jolt. "But I can't risk the safety of the rest of the team."

At this, Fitz whimpered, his hand sliding down the glass. With the amount of foreign soldiers running around out there with heavy weapons, he knew that they'd never be able to recover her in one piece. More than anything, he wanted to pound against the glass, smash the door open and run out to find his partner, but he knew he had neither the strength nor courage to do that. Instead, he sat back in his chair and watched the trees fly by in a blur of brown and green. He wasn't sure if it was because of the speed at which the vehicle seemed to be going or the tears that were forming in his eyes.

* * *

_One Year Later…_

Agent Fletcher hated the night shift, he really did. Nothing interesting ever happened and he was usually stuck behind his desk catching up on paperwork instead of doing anything exciting.

But that didn't seem to be the case tonight. "Sir, they want you downstairs," a voice came from around the door, one of the new agents whose name he hadn't learnt yet.

"What do they want me for?" he asked grumpily. He wasn't going to fall for another prank; they really weren't funny at three in the morning.

"There's someone outside," the agent replied vaguely. Knowing that they wouldn't have bothered him unless they thought it was important, he put down his pen, stood up and reluctantly followed the junior agent downstairs.

"I can take it from here, thanks," he said, leaving him at the bottom of the stairwell and marching down the corridor towards the office. He strode in without knocking.

"Okay, what's outside that's more important than my paperwork?" he asked.

"This," one of the security guards said, clicking something on his computer so that it came up on the bigger screen, clearer. The image was black and green, presumably a camera feed from outside in night vision mode. A ghostly figure could be seen hanging around by the door. Strangely, it wasn't the weirdest thing Agent Fletcher had seen on one of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s cameras; at least this one looked vaguely human.

"Can we turn a light on or something?" he asked, wanting to see more detail on the picture. The security guard responded by leaning across his desk and flicking a switch. A light flickered on and the picture was suddenly thrown into full colour. The figure appeared to jump and turn around in shock, revealing it's face.

It was a girl, about average height with long dark hair that looked like it hadn't been brushed in a very long time. She wore ripped jeans and a light blue plaid shirt that was torn in more places than one, revealing bloody skin beneath. It was covered in scorch marks and the fabric seemed to hang off her thin frame. On one foot, she had a sneaker but the other foot was bare, exposing her toes underneath the baggy hem of her jeans. Her entire body appeared to be shaking in fright.

"Is that…?"

"It can't be…"

"She's been missing for over a year…"

"That's her," Agent Fletcher concluded. "That's Agent Jemma Simmons."


	2. Chapter Two

"... and you're sure it's Jemma? Well, yes I know, but I don't want to get their hopes up."

Fitz was padding past Coulson's door when he heard it. It was three in the morning and he just couldn't sleep. He was restless and he knew why; last Thursday marked the one year anniversary of Simmons' disappearance. Tired and thirsty, he'd wandered to the kitchen in his pyjamas to get a bottle of water before making his way back to bed. But going back meant passing Coulson's room and the one-sided conversation that was happening inside had caught his attention.

The door was slightly ajar and Fitz could see a sliver of Coulson's office through it. The agent was pacing up and down his office in a set of navy blue pyjamas, a phone pressed to his ear.

"Where is she now?" Fitz heard Coulson ask whoever was on the other end of the phone line. "Keep her safe and I'll get May to reroute the plane." The conversation ended and Fitz knew that he should probably run back to bed and pretend that he hadn't heard anything, but he was glued to the spot. All the muscles in his body were frozen, despite the sound that he could hear footsteps on the other side of the door.

The door swung open, revealing Coulson. "Fitz, what are you doing out here?" he asked calmly. He looked more surprised than anything else. "I was just…" He'd always been a terrible liar; he had a tell that everyone picked up on almost instantly. Scratching the back of his neck, he continued to stutter an excuse. "Thirsty…" He held up the bottle only for it to roll out of his hands and onto the floor.

"Oh, okay. I'd suggest you try and get as much sleep as you can, we're going to have a busy day today…" Coulson replied, striding down the corridor towards the kitchen.

"Why? What are we doing?" He didn't reply. "Is this about our current mission?" Still nothing. "I heard you say you were going to get May to reroute the plane."

"Fitz, I can't-" he began.

"Have you found her?" he blurted out before he could stop himself. A look of conflict crossed the senior agent's face; he looked as though he wanted to tell Fitz everything but S.H.I.E.L.D. protocol wouldn't allow that. "Please, sir," Fitz continued. "Just tell me if they've found her."

Coulson pursed his lips. "A girl matching her appearance has just turned up at S.H.I.E.L.D.'s headquarters. They want us to go and have a look." Upon noticing Fitz's hopeful look, he felt obliged to continue. "It could be nothing, Fitz. Don't get too excited. And don't tell the others. We'll meet at eight to discuss the matter further with the rest of the team." And with that, Coulson disappeared back into his office.

* * *

Fitz couldn't sleep. Of course he couldn't. He'd had trouble sleeping because of her disappearance but now he was experiencing the problem in reverse; he couldn't sleep because he was excited about the possibility of her return. Coulson had told him not to get excited or hopeful but how was he supposed to? Simmons had been his lab partner and his friend and learning to cope without her had been difficult.

Whenever he needed a second pair of hands for whatever he'd been working on, he had to go and find someone else to help. If he needed to confide in anyone, everything had to be bottled up because he knew that no one else on the Bus could comfort him like Simmons could. And most importantly, any Doctor Who marathons had be either postponed or appreciated alone. So that thought that Jemma might actually be back - even though the possibility was small - was something that excited Fitz to no end.

As promised, everyone gathered around at eight the next morning. Fitz had been waiting there since half past seven, fully dressed and nervously waiting. May had joined him a little later followed by Ward and finally Skye who padded in just before eight wearing a fluffy lilac dressing gown, yawning.

"What does AC want with us so early?" she muttered, pulling her dressing gown tighter around her. "I thought we didn't need to be up until nine." No one said anything. "Wow, I take it no one else here is a morning person…"

At exactly eight according to Fitz' watch, Coulson walked down the corridor towards where the four of them had gathered. "You're probably all wondering why we're all here this morning…" he began. Sensing the serious tone in his voice, no one dared to reply. "The mission we were supposed to be finishing today has been reassigned to another team."

"But we were so close to getting the papers!" Ward exclaimed. "They can't just take it away from us without reason."

"They can if something more important comes along," he replied. That got their attentions. "Last night at approximately half past three, a girl appeared outside S.H.I.E.L.D.'s headquarters. There we no footprints or tire tracks leading up to where she was found which is a mystery in itself, but more importantly, the girl in question has been ID'd as someone who has been missing for over a year."

It took a moment for the information to sink in. "Wait, you don't mean…"

"Are you talking about…?"

"Simmons," Fitz finished for them. Skye gasped. Ward raised an eyebrow. May's face didn't change and Fitz guessed that she knew. So much for secret. Ward and Skye looked to Coulson for more information.

"We'll have to see when we get there. Please, let's not get our hopes up in case there's been a mistake." Coulson directed his glance at May. "ETA?"

"Eight twenty five," she replied.

"Perfect."

* * *

As soon as they'd arrived at the headquarters - having been guided in wearing blindfolds, because apparently not even Level 7 agents could know the location, let alone Fitz and Skye - the four of them were ushered into some kind of waiting room whilst Coulson was whisked away, presumably to wherever Simmons was.

"Well, this place looks cheery…" Skye remarked as she settled into one of the many black chairs in the waiting room, which felt just as uncomfortable as they looked. "I didn't know S.H.I.E.L.D. had a magazine," Ward pondered as he picked up a glossy black booklet, emblazoned with their silver logo from the coffee table and opened it.

Fitz couldn't understand how everyone around him managed to be so calm. Here they were, waiting for Coulson's verdict on one of their team members and they were just sat here as though they were waiting for nothing more than coffee in Starbucks. It didn't make sense. And it made him nervous.

Eventually they heard footsteps down the long corridor and Fitz looked up to see Coulson, accompanied by a tall redhead wearing a lab coat. "Fitz. She wants to see you."

* * *

The long walk down the corridor towards Simmons' room seemed endless; every time they passed one of the doors leading off it, another seemed to appear in front of them. It was clichéd but true. Two main emotions were displayed on Fitz's face, clear as day: excitement and nervousness. The thought of seeing Jemma again excited him - of course it did - but what if she wasn't the same?

Who was he kidding, she'd just spent a year in the clutches of some unknown force, of course she was going to be changed by it. But then he was getting Simmons back, his Jemma, and that was the most important thing, right?

By the time he finally reached her room, Fitz's brain was clouded with questions, pointless, occasionally rhetorical questions that he didn't know the answer to. It was only when he heard another voice that he realised the doctor that Coulson had been speaking with had followed him down the corridor. "I'll leave you two alone for now," she said quietly. "Take as long as you like." And with that, she retraced her steps in the direction of the waiting room, her heels clicking against the tile flooring.

The sweat that had collected in the palms of his hands only made it more difficult for Fitz to turn the doorknob. It took a few moments of fumbling with the shiny silver handle before he managed to twist it open, revealing the room and the girl that lay behind it.

"Fitz!" a voice cried enthusiastically, a voice that was unmistakably hers.

"Simmons!" he replied, striding over to her bedside.

In the short walk over to her, Fitz took the time to survey her for injuries. Her hair was tied back neatly, revealing a deep gash that wound from her left eyebrow across her temple and down her cheek. Dark stitches snaked across it like railway tracks through previously undisturbed land and they made Fitz want to protect her from all harm. But that seemed to be the worst injury - there were a few purplish bruises marking her otherwise perfect skin and greyish circles looping around her wrists, suggesting that wherever she'd been, she'd been there against her will. From the way her arm was positioned under the covers, he could see an IV had been inserted into her right arm, pumping some kind of colourless liquid into her bloodstream.

Apart from the various cuts and bruises that were scattered across her being she seemed fine. Perfect even. Her lips formed a small smile and her eyes still had that youthful glint in them, the kind she used to have whenever she was on the brink of finishing an experiment or gathering conclusions from new data.

Dragging over a nearby chair - which thankfully looked comfier than the ones in the waiting room - Fitz seated himself next to the bed, hoping that Simmons would start a conversation. Most of all he wanted to ask her everything, where she'd been and what she'd been doing, what they'd done to her, but he knew that she'd tell him in her own time. And he didn't want to be insensitive.

They sat for a moment in silence, pure and unbroken, both unsure of what to say next. So Fitz reached across the bed and took Simmons' hand gently, interlocking her fragile fingers with his. And somehow, this one gesture said more than a thousand words ever could.

* * *

"Agent Coulson, could I speak to you for a moment, please?"

"Of course," Coulson replied, looking up at Dr. Richards, the woman who had been trusted with looking after Simmons whilst she was here. Leading him to a small room, not unlike the interrogation room they had on the Bus, she indicated for him to sit down.

"I take it you've run the necessary tests on Simmons," he asked.

"I have," she replied. "And the results are very interesting."

"I'm listening…"

"Agent Simmons seems to be in perfect health. I've checked everything from her blood pressure to her eye sight and everything seems to match perfectly with S.H.I.E.L.D.'s records of her," the redhead explained, consulting her notes.

"So what's the problem then?" Coulson asked, sensing an upcoming "but…".

"She appears to be suffering from some type of dissociative amnesia."

"What?" he asked, in shock. Simmons' memory had seemed intact when he'd spoken to her not moments ago. "Amnesia?"

"Dissociative amnesia is when a person blocks out a series of memories associated with a particularly traumatic event in their life," the doctor continued. "It appears that Agent Simmons has done this with all memories associated with her disappearance and therefore can't remember anything between the points of the start of the mission in Morocco and arriving here."

"So she can't remember anything?"

"The last thing she remembers is diving for cover with Agent Fitz after recovering the serum from the laboratory. And then her most recent memory is standing outside here last night."

"Is there any way we can recover her memory?"

"I don't know…" Dr. Richards explained. "The strange thing about her case is that the physical and mental signs that are usually connected with this type of dissociative disorder aren't present."

"What's the next step then?" Coulson asked. Simmons was a highly valued member of his team and now that she was back on the radar, he couldn't afford to lose her.

"I think the next progress point would be to get her to see a psychiatrist."

"A psychiatrist? Doesn't that seem a little extreme?"

"Extreme but necessary," she continued, shutting the little metal folder containing Simmons' medical notes with a snap. "We'll see how she is tomorrow." And with that, she turned on her heel and fled the room, her lab coat billowing out behind her dramatically.


	3. Chapter 3

"I hereby announce," Fitz began, holding the pair of scissors against the hospital band on Simmons' wrist. "That you are officially discharged!" The scissors closed with a metallic snap around the thin slip of pale blue paper that had encircled the girl's wrist whilst she had stayed there, her details printed on them in invisible ink. S.H.I.E.L.D. protocol.

The young scientist blushed as the rest of her team cheered around her. She'd never liked being the centre of attention very much, which is perhaps why she liked working in a pair all of the time. But this time, she was glad that such a fuss was being made of her; it meant that she was back with her team, back with her friends and most importantly, back with Fitz. Packing the last of the few things she had with her into a bag – mainly the ruined clothes she'd arrived with and a hairbrush that Skye had leant her – she stood up and brushed down her jeans. "I'm ready!"

Slowly, the six of them filed out of the small hospital room and down the corridor. Having already signed the necessary papers to be discharged, she was free to leave without question. With a quick _thank you _aimed at Dr. Richards, the newly reunited team made their way out of the building and towards the Bus which was parked neatly - thanks to May - on the asphalt outside. Seeing the plane again was comforting, at least it was to Simmons anyway. As they waited for the cargo bay to lower itself, she turned to Fitz.

"Dr. Richards was telling me that you finally managed to stabilise the copper compound we recovered from the broken stalagmite in that cave in Chile," Jemma began, eager to catch up with any of Fitz' scientific discovers whilst she'd been gone.

"Yeah," he replied, nodding. "I mean, it was difficult without you but Skye really helped me out with it."

"Skye?" Jemma repeated, wanting to make sure she'd heard right and seemingly forgetting that the girl in question was stood just behind her. "Skye helped you in the lab?"

"Yeah, I helped him…" Skye answered, stepping out so that Simmons could see her. "Is that so hard to believe?"

"N-no, I just…" Jemma's cheeks flushed scarlet as she tried to mumble an excuse. She didn't know why, but a horrible feeling was washing over her, making her feel bitter inside. Jealousy. She didn't like it.

As Simmons tried to stutter out an explanation, the bottom of the cargo bay door hit the asphalt, breaking the awkwardness that hovered over the arguing scientists. In silence, the six of them began making their way up the fallen ramp onto the Bus.

"So, Jemma…" Coulson said, puncturing the unwanted silence clouding the air around them. "Where do you want to be dropped off?"

"Dropped off? What do you mean?" she asked, confused.

"Where do you want to spend your time off? Back home?" he continued.

"Time off?" Still thoroughly puzzled, she let the words roll around in her mind. "I don't need time off."

"Well, it's S.H.I.E.L.D. protocol to offer a certain period of time off during these situations. And given what you've been through-"

"I haven't been through anything!" Simmons cried suddenly. "I've just spent six days recovering in hospital and there isn't even anything wrong with me! I can't remember anything!" She just wanted to get back to normality, back to the lab and now they might be taking that privilege away from her. Anger bubbled up inside her small frame and she clenched her sweaty palms into fists.

The scientist looked up to see the rest of her team mates staring at her in surprise, shock and sympathy. "I'm… I'm sorry… I just need to be…" she muttered, making her way up the ramp and punching in the necessary key code to open the doors to the lab. Only it beeped loudly and angrily, signifying an incorrect password.

Figuring that they must've changed the code during the year that she'd been gone - they were working for a secret government agency, of course they had to regularly change the code - she sighed loudly before making her way up the spiral staircase, no doubt whilst the rest of her team watched on from below, shocked and confused by her sudden mood swings.

* * *

There was a quiet knock at the door. Jemma looked up from where she was sat on her bed, her knees tucked up to her chest and her arms wrapped around them. Her pod seemed like the only place on the Bus that hadn't had its code changed, its contents rearranged or use changed; apart from the fact that all of her belongings that previously resided there had been packed away and shipped to her parents back home, it was still her room and the only place she now felt comfortable on the plane.

"Come in…" she mumbled quietly. The door handle clicked and she looked up to see Coulson reveal himself from behind the white door. "Simmons…"

"Hi…" she replied bashfully. It wasn't like her to have such an angry outburst, especially in front of her team mates. "I'm sorry about that, Agent Coulson…"

"No problem. It's a perfectly normal reaction to what you've been through."

"So… I don't have to take time off work?" she asked.

"It's still your choice," he explained, offering Jemma a few papers marked with the S.H.I.E.L.D. logo attached to a metal clipboard. "We just thought you might want to take some time to relax… see your parents and get used to the swing of things again. But if you want to decline the offer, I'll need you to sign these."

"Oh, I don't want to worry my parents… as long as they know I'm back. And I'll be fine for everything else." Taking the pen that was offered to her, Simmons scribbled down her signature on the lines that her boss had marked with an _x_ before passing the papers back to Coulson. "There's just one more thing I need to talk about with you…" he said, slightly ominously. Simmons' heart rate picked up. "Yes…?"

"Dr. Richards said that it might be a good idea for you to speak to a psychiatrist about your experiences over the past year."

"A psychiatrist?" Simmons questioned, wondering if she'd perhaps misheard him. "I don't need to see a psychiatrist." As a biochemist, Jemma knew her emotions were just the results of spikes in different hormones; serotonin made you feel happy, whilst adrenaline increased anger.

In the end, it was all chemistry and if she could just get her hormones under control, she'd be fine, right? She didn't need the help of a medical professional to understand that.

"Are you sure?" Coulson asked. He didn't want to push her, but he did want what was best for one of his top scientists. "I'm sure," she replied, pushing a loose of hair from her face and nodding. "I'm perfectly fine," she reassured him with a forced smile.

"Okay then…" Coulson said, gathering the paperwork and standing up from where he'd taken a seat on her mattress. "I'm sure Fitz will be able to inform you of the new key codes for all the doors… and your parents have been informed and are sending your stuff back." He nodded to the bare shelves and empty cabinets in the room.

"Maybe you want to give them another call, I'm sure they'd appreciate hearing the sound of your voice again."

"Will do."

Simmons watched as Coulson tucked the clipboard under his arm and opened the door. "Jemma…" When he used her first name, she knew he was serious.

"Yes, sir?"

"Just remember that my door's always open." All the young biochemist could manage was another half-hearted nod before the senior agent smiled sadly and departed.

* * *

_A dark room. Black shapes flitted around in the distance, twisting menacingly in the dim light. A row of test tubes sat in the wooden rack in front of her, all filled with a different coloured substance. A dull brown, a toxic looking green and an insulting pink. Her hands shook as she picked up the glass pipette and pinched its rubber bulb causing it to suck up some of the green fluid. Voices echoed down the corridor, getting louder and louder until she heard a deafening bang at the door._

Screaming. There was a horrible, ear splitting scream filling the silence that had fallen across the Bus in the dead of night. Fitz sat upright, jolted awake by the awful piercing sound. Throwing his blanket aside and nearly tripping over the loose hems of his pyjama bottoms, he unlocked his door and looked up and down the corridor whilst his eyes adjusted to the poor light.

The screaming continued. Jemma. He began stumbling at speed towards her room, trying to get there as soon as possible. Slowly, the doors around him began to open as the half asleep agents sleepily padded out, rapidly trying to wake up and help.

"Who's screaming…?" Skye muttered sleepily, apparently not realising the situation. She pulled her fluffy dressing gown around herself and extracted a torch from one of its pockets.

"What… what's happening…" Ward yawned as he rubbed sleep out of his eyes. For an agent that was supposed to have lightning quick reflexes all the time, he wasn't a morning person.

"Are those Captain America boxers?" Skye asked, losing track of the fact that one of her team mates was uncontrollably screaming and aiming the torch's beam at Ward's crotch.

"Skye! Focus!" yelled Fitz.

Meanwhile, he had located Jemma's pod and thrown open the door, bursting in to find her thrashing about in her sleep, limbs flailing and mouth open in what could only be described as a blood curdling scream, a scream that could only indicate sheer terror. "Jemma!" he cried, rushing to her bedside and kneeling beside it. Gently, he began to shake her awake, all whilst repeating her name.

Suddenly, she sat bolt upright, her eyes wide and scared and her skin covered in a thin sheen of cold sweat. Her breath came in short, sharp and heavy pants and she looked as though she'd just run a mile. Seeing her team members crowding around her, all in various states of undress and looking tired but concerned, she ran her fingers through her hair making it stick up wildly.

"Simmons…" Fitz whispered, returning to the name he usually called her. "Are you okay?" If there was one thing Simmons wasn't in this situation, it was okay. But as she got her breath back, she nodded. "Yeah… I'm fine."


End file.
